When telling the story of the Holocaust, one effective way to overcome our sheer inability to comprehend the scope and scale of such atrocities is to zoom in on one or two stories: share one particular experience, in all its brutal specificity, and we have at least a small way into the event—the small details illuminate the larger whole.

One theatre company from the Netherlands, Hotel Modern, takes a related approach in KAMP (CAMP). The production depicts a typical day at the Auschwitz concentration camp, but instead of zooming in into a closeup, it shrinks everything down, literally, into miniature. It’s the accumulation of thousands of small details that has the impact in this case.

Eleanor McMahon thinks it’s time to change the conversation around cycling in Ontario.

McMahon is the founder of the Share the Road Cycling Coalition, who will be hosting the fifth annual Ontario Bike Summit this week in Toronto. She says that we need to stop talking about things like bike lanes and other bicycle infrastructure as a zero sum game between cars and bikes.

“We do polling, and our polling tells us that 89 per cent of Ontarians are both drivers and cyclists,” she says. “The notion that it’s cars versus bikes is overblown, and it’s really not working anymore. Deciding to change the conversation means going out of our way to poke holes in that idea and say from the get go ‘We don’t buy into that philosophy, and just because you say it, doesn’t make it true.’ ”

Photo by {a href=http://www.flickr.com/photos/smuncky/3390391278/sizes/z/in/photostream/}smuncky{/a} from the {a href=http://www.flickr.com/groups/torontoist/}Torontoist Flickr Pool{/a}.

First, a viola. Then, a bassoon. One by one, before a modest crowd gathered for Moses Znaimer’s IdeaCity conference at Koerner Hall, eight members of the Toronto Symphony Orchestra debuted their contributions to a symphonic framework laid out by composer, MIT Media Lab founder, and Guitar Hero mastermind Tod Machover.

Machover, as it turns out, isn’t just a multimedia whiz; he’s also, as of now, a professional Toronto appreciator.

The 2012 Pulitzer Prize nominee was approached by the Toronto Symphony Orchestra to create a new symphony about Toronto for the TSO’s 2013 New Creations festival. The resulting work, “A Toronto Symphony: Concerto for Composer and City,” will be a collaborative piece built from a bare skeleton of music arranged by Machover and expounded upon by orchestra members, professional and amateur composers, and basically anyone else who has the wherewithal to upload a sound to the web.

Machover envisions an ongoing back-and-forth between himself and participants. “What I would not like,” he said in an interview following his IdeaCity presentation, mad scientist hairdo bobbing as he gesticulated, “is if it felt like I’ve put out a Jell-O mould.” In other words, he doesn’t want outside contributions to the piece to be edited entirely at his discretion. For the symphony to work as envisioned, the collaboration between Machover and members of the public will have to be real.

Since this process will be happening remotely, Machover has devised a basic structure on which to build the piece: it will be divided into eight segments derived from a mix of Toronto-sourced material (submitted online), Machover’s own music, and, sometimes, a combination of the two. Back-and-forth between the Boston-based symphonic architect and local contributors will take place through web-based communication platforms like Skype and Twitter.

It’s an undertaking Machover finds appropriate to Toronto. Three decades ago, he lived here while he was first cellist for the Canadian Opera Company’s orchestra. He’s been coming back to visit ever since, for both personal and professional reasons.

“There was always a tradition of really experimental media connected to artwork and technology [in Toronto],” he says. “New York’s always been more segregated between different artistic communities. So, like technology is always outside the museums or outside the orchestras. In Toronto, there’s always been a nice blend.”

Machover cites interactive artist David Rokeby and human-computer interaction pioneer Bill Buxton (the latter of whom worked at the University of Toronto for many years before becoming a principal researcher at Microsoft Research) as examples of the kinds of people he feels are representative of a uniquely Torontonian type of creative energy.

“You fly into the city, and you can just see the fact that there are no boundaries to the city,” he says. “When I stand in the centre of Toronto, I just stand around saying, ‘I am so exhilarated.’ It makes me soar. The buildings just feel taller than anywhere else, even though they’re not the tallest buildings in the world. It’s the combination of this openness, and this boom. It’s definitely something I feel, and definitely going to be in this piece.”

People interested in contributing to Machover’s sympony can do so online, right here.

There is no reason you cannot relive this classic moment on the front campus. All you need is a frisbee and some Elvis Costello.
U of T plays the role of the fictional Port Chester University, and virtually all of its photogenic buildings get a turn in the spotlight, while its sadder architectural achievements (we’re talking to you New College and Robarts Library) are absent.
The frisbee scene (above) gives a sense of just how much of the school is on display. Shot on the front campus, it gives U of T alum and students a chance to point out all their fave buildings: from Sig Sam to Med-Sci to Con Hall and UC, they’re all visible at some point.
As for the flick’s main human players: the Crusty Old Dean is played by Arrested Development‘s Jessica Walter, and her WASPy, ass-kissing student accomplice is played totally-not-against-type by David Spade.
There is also an extra layer of irony for fans of Old School to discover since Jeremy Piven plays the Crusty Old Dean in that film, a 180-turn from his role here as Droz, the Shit-Disturbing Rebel who teaches everyone the folly of their ways.
Droz leads a non-conformist frat of ne’er-do-wells known as “The Pit.” Opposing their efforts is Spade’s group, a secret society called “Balls and Shaft.” Yes, really.

A young Jeremy Piven (albeit with less hair than he has now) philosophizes in front of the Sir Daniel Wilson residences.
The film even tends to be geographically consistent, which means that when someone walks out the west side of University College, they actually end up in the courtyard in front of the Sir Daniel Wilson residence buildings.
In this scene, for example, Droz is explaining to the Innocent Frosh (played by Chris Young) how the campus has become segregated while strolling through a protest by the “womynists,” with whom Droz’s ex-girlfriend has hooked up.
Could he possibly win her back by showing her what a stand-up guy he is while simultaneously showing the womynists that everybody should be co-operating, not fighting with each other?!!!
(**SPOILER ALERT** Yes. **END SPOILER ALERT**)

Only Hollywood professionals are allowed to throw raw, ground meat from the top of Victoria College.
There are all sorts of other little places to spot, from the faux bus stop in front of Wycliffe College, to one of the most beautiful buildings on campus, Victoria College. The surrounding quad plays host to a peaceful protest by a vegan group, but a riot ensues when our rascally heroes toss raw meat at them from the building’s tower. (Take that, vegans!)

Before Favreau was so money, he was just Gutter.
The film even ventures afield when Jon Favreau’s stoner character (Gutter) heads into Port Chester itself. The town is played by historic Unionville, and there are several lingering shots of its lovely Main Street. (Chick Trivia: The pilot of Gilmore Girls was shot in the quaint Markham village before they built their own set for Stars Hollow.)
A very high Favreau has his mind blown, standing outside Old Firehall Sports, when a nice old lady seems to be asking him, “Can you blow me where the pampers is?”
And that’s not even the best scene. No, the film’s defining moment occurs when a pre-Entourage Piven confronts a pre-Swingers Favreau (in only his second film). Favreau is wearing a Merkins t-shirt and preparing to leave for a Merkins concert. Piven pulls him aside and implores him:
“What’s this? You’re wearing the shirt of the band you’re going to see? Don’t be that guy.”
We think of it every time we see That Guy—and we see him a lot.

Hopefully they’re not running to Laser Floyd because the planetarium is, like, totally closed.
By late in the film, our young hero has managed to inadvertently offend every group on campus, quelle horreur! They unite (aha!) to track him down and ultimately find him on Philosopher’s Walk. Tucked away behind the Faculty of Law and the Royal Ontario Museum, the walk is usually a perfect place for a stroll, but it turns out also to be well-suited to your average lynch mob.
Soon, everyone ends up at The Pit where they all groove to a performance by George Clinton (long story) and realize how great it is to cooperate and stuff.
The script is based on the adventures of the writers, who attended Wesleyan University. One of the co-writers, Zak Penn, has gone on to more than a bit of fame, having written the two X-Men sequels. Not to mention The Incredible Hulk, which was shot here this summer.
How in love was PCU with U of T? Even the poster shot is right in front of the entrance to University College, shown in all of it’s neo-gothic glory.
According to the DVD commentary, the cast of PCU would engage in softball games with the cast of The Ref, which was also filming here at the time. The latter film featured Kevin Spacey and Dennis Leary, so those are a few games we would have liked to see.

Even the campus maps in PCU are awfully familiar.
Tying it all together is the fact that the film’s director was Hart Bochner, not only a Toronto native, but an actor. You probably remember him as Ellis, the coke-snorting jerk hitting on Holly McClane in the first Die Hard (“Hans, what’s with the gun? What am I, a method actor?”)
When PCU came out, it basically sank without a trace. Then it gained a cult following on video. Watching it again, we have concluded that it falls somewhere in between suckiness and cult greatness. A lot of the 90s/PC jokes don’t date so well, but it has some great comic bits, and if nothing else it should make you think twice before you go to your next concert.
For everyone’s sake—don’t be that guy.